


Hidden Feelings

by Panic_CelestialInk



Category: Aladdin (2019)
Genre: Angst, Confrontation, F/M, Heartache, Magic, Slavery, Spying, Torture, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 18:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21450409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panic_CelestialInk/pseuds/Panic_CelestialInk
Summary: Dalia glared at Jasmine. Honestly, it was her job to answer the door, not the Princess’.There was a long pause. “It’s me.”Dalia would recognise that voice anywhere. It was his voice. The servant who’d given her flowers. The blue creature that lived in the oil lamp. The thing that gave Jafar his powers. Her legs shook beneath her.“What do you want?” Jasmine demanded, her voice ringing with authority.“I-I want to talk to you, Princess.”
Relationships: Aladdin & Genie (Disney), Aladdin/Jasmine (Disney), Dalia/Genie (Disney), Jasmine & Dalia, Jasmine & Genie, Jasmine & Sultan of Agrabah (Disney)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 112





	Hidden Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> All right. So I was a bit worried when I heard they were making a live-action Aladdin. I mean, the original was so amazing, so I didn't think they'd be able to match it.
> 
> However, I was pleasantly surprised with how it turned out. And, the movie answered one of my burning questions: did Genie ever find someone to share his life with. The answer: YES!
> 
> I absolutely loved Dalia and Genie's interactions and I wish the film had more of them. 
> 
> So, this scene came into my head. It's partially based on a similar scene I wrote for the original film I had where an interaction between Genie and Jasmine take place after Aladdin is banished, but I changed it to fit in with the 2019 version.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Agony_.

All Dalia knew was agony. She could feel Jafar’s magic ripping her apart from the inside out. She could vaguely hear Jasmine ordering Jafar to stop—and she heard a soft, horrified cry of “no” as well. Dalia felt tears coursing down her cheeks.

“I’ll do as you ask! I’ll marry you. Make it stop.”

The pain intensified and her back arched. A scream ricocheted inside her, unable to leave her body.

_Stop. Stop. Please, just let this end_. _Let this nightmare end . . . _

“Jafar! Make. It. Stop.” Jasmine’s voice rang with authority, but Dalia wondered what she could do against Jafar’s power.

“As you wish,” Jafar said, sounding bored.

Dalia felt the magic release her and she slumped. She fell onto the cool marble and it felt good against her aching body. She wished she could lie there forever . . . and then she heard something heavy thud to the floor beside her.

“Baba! Baba!”

The Sultan. Jasmine. They needed her. Dalia gritted her teeth and tried to move. Pain pounded through her and she winced as she sat up. She was grateful that her dark hair hid her face from Jafar—and from the blue creature that hovered beside him. She didn’t want to look at either of them. Yet, she could feel the creature’s eyes on her as she reached over to the Sultan. He lay prone on the floor, his robes pooled around him and his eyes closed. His skin had an unhealthy grey tinge and his chest barely rose and fell. Jasmine leant over him; her hair falling in her eyes as she frantically shook his shoulder. Dalia grabbed a fistful of gold robes and shook him as well.

“My Lord?”

“Baba, please, please wake up!” Tears shimmered in Jasmine’s eyes and Dalia’s heart splintered at the sight of them.

The Sultan groaned and opened an eye. “Jasmine?”

“Yes, Baba.” Jasmine gently stroked her father’s cheek.

“Don’t marry—”

Suddenly, the Sultan was yanked away from them. He skidded along the polished floor towards Jafar. Jafar gestured with his staff and Sultan flew into the air. Black ropes appeared and wrapped around him, cutting deep into his flesh. Small droplets of blood dripped onto the floor and Dalia could hear the Sultan struggling to breathe. The sound made her feel sick. 

“Baba!” Jasmine took a step towards her father and Jafar pointed the staff directly at her.

“That’s far enough, Princess,” he said coolly.

She froze. “I gave you my word that I’d marry you. What more do you want?” Jasmine demanded.

“I want you to fulfill that promise. I want your father to watch while I take the one thing he loves the most. Watching you suffer as my wife will be the greatest torture he could ever experience.”

“No!” Dalia yelled.

Jafar aimed his staff at her and she went cold. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blue creature reach out as if to stop Jafar and freeze. His bracelets glowed and smoke hissed from them as a look of pain passed across the creature’s face.

Then, Jafar spoke and Dalia’s attention snapped back to him.

“Do you want me to torture you again?”

Dalia couldn’t answer. She simply stared at the man, taking in the eyes simmering with barely-restrained fury; the cruel smile; the dark robes that flared out behind him.

_As black as his soul_, she thought numbly.

Jasmine suddenly grabbed Dalia’s arm. Her eyes never left Jafar as she tried to slowly move away from him.

“Jafar, I need her to prepare for the wedding.”

Dalia knew Jasmine well enough to recognise that she was lying. And, from the expression on Jafar’s face, he knew it as well. For a moment, Dalia thought that he would attack and she braced herself.

Then, he laughed.

“I’m enjoying this immensely, so there’s no rush. I’d like to _savour_ this moment, Princess. So yes, take the time you need to get ready—and take the little handmaiden with you. Just remember, that I have your father here with me, so don’t try anything . . . foolish.”

Jasmine nodded stiffly and the two women turned and walked out of the throne room. Dalia’s body throbbed with each step. She tried not to stumble and felt a prickle of shame as Jasmine took her elbow and helped her walk.

Dalia concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. She barely noticed the ornate wall hangings in the corridors, or the gleaming columns on either side of the corridor as Jasmine led them back to her chambers. She tried not to think. If she thought, then she’d start thinking about the blue creature that’d wafted out of the lamp when Jafar rubbed it. The creature that’d given her beautiful flowers and had taken her for a stroll. The creature that’d made her smile, and laugh. The creature that made her feel—oh, she was such an _idiot_. A complete and utter _idiot_ for—

“Dalia, are you all right?” Jasmine asked.

Dalia blinked in shock. She hadn’t realised that they’d reached the royal chambers. Everything looked so ordinary. The colours of the murals shone; Jasmine’s maps were spread out over her desk; the embroidery on the pillows gleamed in the sunlight—the sight sent a wave of anger through Dalia. The world was falling apart and this stupid palace had the audacity to remain beautiful? It didn’t make any sense.

“Dalia did you hear me?” Jasmine looked worriedly at her.

“What?”

“Dalia, he-he tortured you.” Jasmine’s face crumpled, as though _she_ was the one being tortured. “Do you want to sit down? I’ll get you some food, water—whatever you need. I think we have a medical kit somewhere . . .”

“I’m fine.” Dalia gripped Jasmine’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“He didn’t touch me.”

“Jasmine.” Dalia’s grip tightened. “Jafar tortured your father; he killed the man you love,” Dalia noticed that Jasmine didn’t deny her feelings, “And he’s forcing you to marry him. You can’t be all right with this . . . ”

Jasmine shook her head. “Never mind me. He tortured you and the man you love i-is . . . ”

“Isn’t even human,” Dalia finished. The words tasted bitter to her. “H-he used me. To get closer to you and—” The thought that the kind-hearted servant who’d so clumsily asked her for a stroll was only using her—it hurt far worse than Jafar’s torture.

Dalia wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly she and Jasmine were hugging tightly and sobbing. Dalia wasn’t even entirely sure why she was sobbing. Fear? Anger? Horror? Or maybe it was because of the gaping wound in her chest that ached when she thought of _him._

After a few moments, Jasmine pulled away. She fiercely wiped her eyes, heedless of the way her make up smeared. 

“

All right. Enough tears. We need a plan.” She adjusted her dress as she spoke and Dalia had the oddest impression of a soldier preparing for battle.

“A plan?” Dalia repeated blankly. “Jasmine, you can’t marry him. You have to run away and get help. Maybe Sheribad has an army, or another sorcerer or something that can stop Jafar. They’re your mother’s people, after all. They’ll want to help you.”

“I can’t. Jafar has my father.” Jasmine’s voice cracked. “He knows I’ll do anything to keep Baba safe.”

Dalia braced herself. “Jasmine, your father would rather die than let you marry Jafar. Maybe you should—”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk like that.” Jasmine cut her off. “I refuse to let Jafar hurt my father . . . or you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Dalia said in an attempt to sound teasing. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

“Be serious, please.”

“Sure. Jasmine, Jafar is an all-powerful sorcerer. He literally disintegrated all your soldiers, and your tiger with a wave of his hand—not to mention what he did to your thief suitor.” Jasmine flinched at the memory. “How are we supposed to fight him?”

“I don’t know, but we have to do something. I can’t let my people, or anyone else, suffer under Jafar’s hands.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“I—”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Jasmine and Dalia glanced at each other. Before Dalia could say anything, Jasmine cleared her throat and asked, “Who is it?”

Dalia glared at Jasmine. Honestly, it was her job to answer the door, not the Princess’.

_But, I guess when disaster strikes, all rules fly out the window. _

There was a long pause. “It’s me.”

Dalia would recognise that voice anywhere. It was _his_ voice. The servant who’d given her flowers. The blue creature that lived in the oil lamp. The thing that gave Jafar his powers. Her legs shook beneath her.

“What do you want?” Jasmine demanded, her voice ringing with authority.

Dalia didn’t know how she did that—remain so calm and in control when everything was falling apart. It was one of the qualities Dalia was sure would make her a magnificent ruler—if she ever got a chance to take the throne.

“I-I want to talk to you, Princess.”

Jasmine pressed her lips together. Dalia could see the thoughts sparking like fireworks in her dark eyes.

“Jasmine?” she asked in a low voice.

“I think we should talk to him,” Jasmine whispered. “We need as much information as we can get if we’re going to stop Jafar.”

“You’re right but . . .” Dalia’s stomach lurched as she thought of laying eyes on him.

Jasmine’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to speak with him. I can handle this.”

“Are you _mad?!”_ Dalia hissed, wishing she could shake some sense into Jasmine. “You can’t be alone with that _thing_. You don’t know what it’s capable of.”

She deliberately ignored the little voice in her mind that pointed out that she’d been alone with the creature and it had been one of the best nights of her life.

“Dalia . . .”

“I’ll be there with you.”

“You don’t have to. I know it’s going to be difficult for you and—”

Her eyes suddenly lit up. Dalia turned and frowned as she realised that Jasmine was staring at one of the ornate wardrobes littered around the room. It was the one that Dalia used when she selected Jasmine’s outfits for the day. The wardrobe was carved from polished hardwood and inlaid with gold, jade and turquoise gemstones. The cabinet maker had designed the doors to be a depiction of a forest and included a latticework of holes to create the impression of falling leaves. The only problem with the cabinet was that the doors occasionally got stuck. 

“Dalia, if you really want to be in the room when I talk to that thing, then hide in the wardrobe. That way you can hear everything—”

“And see everything as well,” Dalia added, thinking of the holes.

“Exactly. You’ll see and hear everything and if something goes wrong—”

“I can help,” she said as she looked around the room, “somehow . . . there must be something I can . . .”

Her eyes fell on the iron bracket next to the fireplace. Memories of the tales her mother used to tell her and her brothers wafted through her mind. She rushed to the fireplace and grabbed one of the iron pokers from the bracket. At Jasmine’s questioning glance, she said. “My mother used to tell me stories about magical creatures. She said that iron could hurt them. So, if that _thing_ does anything, this,” she held up the poker, “should help.”

Jasmine looked doubtful, but she didn’t voice her scepticism. “All right. Now, get into the wardrobe. Quickly.”

Dalia opened the door to the wardrobe. Dangling inside was the ornate, blue silk dress Jasmine had planned to wear for dinner with Ali—Aladdin?—and several scarves and shawls that could be paired with it. Jasmine yanked the dress off the railing and dropped it to the floor of the wardrobe.

“Get in. There’s space for you now.”

“Jasmine, I can’t just stand on your silk dress.”

Jasmine gave her a look and Dalia winced. “We’re in the middle of a coup and you’re worried about my _dress_?”

_Well, when she put it like that . . ._ “Fine, fine. I’ll stand on the dress.”

Dalia climbed into the wardrobe and Jasmine shut it behind her. She shifted around, tying not to slip on the silk beneath her feet. She breathed deeply, finding the smell of lavender and lemongrass comforting. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, though she was happy to see that the inside of the wardrobe wasn’t completely dark. Flecks of light spattered the inside of the wardrobe, creating a rather beautiful effect. She leant close to one of the holes and peeked through it. She only had a view of the centre of the room, but she could still clearly hear everything else. She heard Jasmine walk over to the door and pull it open. Dalia couldn’t help tightening her grip on the poker as Jasmine spoke.

“You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yes . . .” the creature’s voice sounded odd. Defeated. “May I come in?”

“Can I stop you?”

He made a sound, as if he’d been hit. “I just want to talk.”

“Very well.”

Dalia heard Jasmine’s footsteps and then she stepped into Dalia’s field of vision. She carried herself like a queen, despite her smeared make-up and mussed hair. Dalia could tell that she was intending to treat the conversation like political negotiation. A moment later, the creature came into view. Dalia started. She had expected the blue-skinned, floating being. Instead, he looked like he had when she’d first seen him: dark skin; a beard and top knot decorated with gold jewellery; clothes made from various shades of blue and purple silk and gleaming gold bracelets on each wrist. Yet . . . his beaming smile was gone and his shoulders sagged, as though the bracelets were far too heavy for him.

He kept his eyes on the floor as Jasmine looked him up and down. Eventually, she folded her arms and asked “What _are you_?”

“A genie. An all-powerful genie.” He didn’t look up as he spoke.

“Well, that explains how you got past the guards.”

“Actually . . . the guards were all disintegrated by Jafar.” He flinched at Jasmine’s gasp of horror. Dalia was suddenly grateful that both her brothers—who were soldiers—were on a diplomatic visit in Sheribad and far out of Jafar’s reach. 

“Why are you here?”

“Jafar ordered me to make sure that you were preparing for the wedding. It’s not an official wish, but it links to his wish to be Sultan, so I took advantage of that to come and talk to you.”

“Why do you want to talk to me?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

There was a long pause. Then, he finally looked up and Dalia’s heart twisted as she saw that his eyes were dark with agony. “I-I need you to tell me . . . is Dalia hurt? Is she in pain? Is she all right? Please, tell me that Dalia is all right. No, wait, if she’s not all right, then _tell me_ she’s not all right. I-I—please, just-just tell me how she is. I need to know . . . please?” His voice strained on the last word.

“She’s in my bedchamber, resting,” Jasmine snapped. “After all she was just _tortured _by Jafar.”

His eyes jerked to the ornate door of Jasmine’s bedchamber and he took a step toward it. Jasmine intercepted him.

“_Don’t you dare go anywhere near her_,” she said in a dangerous voice. “She’s trying to recover and doesn’t need you barging in, uninvited and unwanted. You’ve hurt her enough.”

Jasmine’s words were like whips and he flinched away from her. “I get that. I don’t blame her and I don’t want to upset her. I—please, just make sure that she’s all right. Please?”

“I will, though not for your sake.” She folded her arms. “And, now that I’ve answered your question, you’ll answer mine. How long did you and Ali—I mean, Aladdin—plan this coup?”

His eyes widened. “Wait, back up a moment. Aladdin and I never planned any coup.” He threw his hands around as he spoke. “That boy is a love struck fool. All he ever wanted was a chance to be close to you. Princess, he would do anything for you—but he thought that you deserved someone better than him. So, he wished that he was a Prince and I used my magic make it come true.”

“So, the servants, that ridiculous parade, the dancing, Ababwa—that was all you?” Jasmine’s voice twisted a little.

“Yeah.” The genie didn’t look very happy about it, though. “But, the carpet ride, the bracelet, confronting Jafar—that was the kid. I had nothing to do with any of that.”

And, Dalia knew that those things were the things that Jasmine really liked about Aladdin. The things that—though Jasmine would never admit it—won her heart.

“If Aladdin wanted to have me fall in love with him, why didn’t he just wish it?” she asked in a small voice. “It would have saved him a lot of trouble.”

“It’s one of the rules.” He rubbed his one bracelet as he spoke. “You can’t wish for more wishes. You can’t wish someone to fall in love with you and you can’t wish anyone back from the dead. Anyway, I don’t think the kid would have done that. He's not the type to force you into something you didn’t want—unlike a certain staff-wielding Vizier we know.” His voice darkened at the mention of Jafar.

Jasmine’s shoulders sagged in relief. “So Aladdin was trying to—”

“Impress you and win your heart. And, he made a complete ass of himself trying to do it.” The genie sounded exasperated, but Dalia couldn’t help remembering how awkward the genie himself had been when he’d asked her for a stroll.

“Now, how did bewitching my handmaiden become part of the plan?” Jasmine’s voice cut like a knife. Dalia felt the world lurch. Had he done that to her—used his magic to twist her body and mind to suit his ends? To force her to feel what _he wanted_? To make her his pliable puppet? 

The genie blanched. “Woah, wait a second, I never bewitched her. One of the rules is that—”

“You never said anything about bewitching someone. Or about lust. Or infatuation.” Dalia went cold and her stomach churned. She clenched her teeth to stop herself vomiting as Jasmine continued to talk.

“After all, it would be a simple thing for someone with your powers to bewitch her and then force yourself—”

“No, no, No, NO, **_NO_**!” he roared and disappeared into a tornado of blue smoke. Wind whipped through the air, sending maps and papers hurtling around the room. Jasmine staggered back as smoke engulfed everything. Dalia grabbed the door handle—and the door remained shut. She tried it again. And again.

_No_, she thought with growing horror.

She tried to force the door open, but it refused to budge. She pressed her face to the peephole as she tried to see through the smog. A few moments later, the smoke cleared, revealing the genie in his true form. Dalia’s eyes widened as she finally got a good look at him. He was powerfully built in this form, with each muscle of his body clearly defined. He had no legs, just a smoky tail, but he really didn’t need any since he hovered far off the ground. Light rippled across the skin near his bracelets and smoke coiled around him. He radiated power—and yet, Dalia could pick out the similarities to his human form: the beard, the hair . . . and the eyes. His eyes were exactly the same. To Dalia’s shock, he hadn’t done anything but change forms. Jasmine was still there, completely unharmed and, other than the papers and a few pillows being thrown about, everything in the room was intact.

The genie seemed completely distraught. He flew back and forth in agitation, his tail whipping out behind him, and sparks flying from his fingers as he threw his hands about.

“**_Never!_** I never did _anything_ like that to her. I used my magic to get past the guards and to bring her flowers and _that’s it. _ I never bewitched her, or bespelled her or cursed her or whatever. I just wanted a chance to-to get to know her.”

“Why? Why bother if it wasn’t part of a plan? She’s just a handmaiden, after all.”

Dalia knew that tone of voice—it was the tone Jasmine used whenever she was trying to get the truth out of someone.

_Oh. _Heart hammering, Dalia leant forward as she tried to catch the details of his reaction.

The genie looked at Jasmine incredulously. “_Just a handmaiden_? She’s incredible, besides the fact that she’s gorgeous. She’s sassy, fun, adventurous and charming. Why wouldn’t I want to talk to her? Or to get to know her? Or to take a stroll with her? The **_last_** thing I wanted was to hurt her.”

“Yet, you let Jafar torture her,” Jasmine said ruthlessly

“_I didn’t have a choice_! I couldn’t help her—I tried.” He sank all the way to the floor. He held out his wrists and the light gleamed off the gold bracelets. “It’s part of the whole genie gig. I have to do whatever my master commands—no matter what I want, if Jafar wishes me to do something . . . _to hurt someone . . ._ I have to.”

That’s when Dalia realised—they weren’t bracelets. They were _shackles_. Her heart shattered for him. He hunched over and covered his face with his hands.

“I can’t even protect the people I care about,” he said in a broken voice.

Tears coursed down Dalia’s cheeks and she ached with the need to throw her arms around him. The poker slid from her numb fingers and fell onto the silk fabric. She tried the handle again, but the door remained stubbornly stuck. As she watched, Jasmine moved closer to the genie. Her eyes were soft with sympathy. She reached beneath his chin and gently tilted his head up.

“So, you’re just as trapped as we are.”

“Yes. I can resist in some small ways, like coming here and . . . ”

“And what?”

The genie hesitated. “Aladdin wished for me to save his life. It was his second wish, after the whole “Prince Ali” thing. And there’s a pretty broad scope in that wish since he didn’t say how many times I’m supposed to save his life, so when Jafar tried that banishing trick, I sent Carpet to rescue him.”

Jasmine’s eyes lit up. “He’s alive?”

The genie’s eyebrows rose and a mischievous gleam came into his eyes. “Is that something you’re happy about, Princess?”

“I—I—” From her vantage point, Dalia could see Jasmine’s cheeks colouring.

“It looks like you might have feelings for him,” he continued.

And, despite the ache in her chest, Dalia couldn’t help smiling at the genie’s gentle teasing.

Jasmine squared her shoulders and moved away from the genie to pace. “My feelings aren’t important at right now. Jafar has used two of his wishes, right?”

“Right. He’s got one wish left.”

“He won’t want to waste that one, though,” she said thoughtfully.

“True. But, don’t underestimate him. Right now, he’s the most powerful sorcerer in the world. And, I can’t help you while he has the lamp. . . other than a few grey areas.” A gleam came into his eyes. “But, if the lamp _happened_ to fall into your hands, I’d be free to help out.”

“Would you?”

“Yes. Then, you’ll see that Jafar’s powers are nothing compared to mine.” A dark look passed over his face. “And, if I have your permission, I’d like to show him _exactly _what I thought of him torturing Dalia.”

“Don’t worry,” Jasmine’s voice was equally dark. “You’ll have my full permission. Now, all we have to do is get the lamp. And, I somehow have to avoid getting married to that—that . . .”

“Zany psychopath with an inferiority complex?”

“Yes. And, thank you for the advice . . . ” Jasmine tilted her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

“I—I don’t have one.” He shrugged. “Most people just call me ‘Genie’.”

“All right. Thank you, Genie.”

“You’re welcome.” Blue smoke covered him for a moment, and when it faded, he was back in his human form. But, Dalia noticed that his clothing was much less extravagant than usual—and that the shackles were still clamped tightly around his wrists. The sight made a cold quiver move down her spine. How long had he been a slave? How many times had he been forced to do things against his will? How often had he been forced to just stand there and watch as his masters tortured and maimed people? She wanted to tear the shackles off his wrists and hurl them into the ocean.

He stood, dusted off his clothes and bowed to Jasmine. “Good luck, Princess. And, please, tell Dalia that I’m so, so sorry—for lying to her, for letting her get hurt, for-for everything.”

Jasmine’s lips twitched. “It looks like you might have feelings for her.”

Dalia’s stomach flipped and her heart thumped. Genie blinked and then his skin darkened further with a blush.

“ . . . she is a wonderful woman.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s all right.”

Genie almost smiled. “Thank you. Now, I’ll give you forty five minutes, give or take, before you either go to Jafar—or I take you to him. Please, don’t make me do that.”

“I’ll be ready in time. I promise. And Dalia will be there too.”

Genie glanced towards Jasmine’s bedchamber. “Maybe it’s better if she rests. She still needs to recover and—”

“Trust me,” Jasmine interrupted. “Nothing would keep Dalia from being there—and I’m not going to try and stop her. You have no idea how stubborn she is.”

“I think I can guess.” Genie bowed again to Jasmine and said. “All right. Then, good luck, Princess, and I’ll see you later.”

He turned and left the room. Dalia tried the door handle and still the damn thing remained stuck.

_Of all the stupid . . . _

She banged on the door in frustration and Jasmine turned her head at the noise.

“Dalia?”

“Jasmine, can you let me out? The door’s stuck.”

“Hang on.”

Jasmine marched over to the door, jiggled the handle and then it swung open.

“Finally,” Dalia said, as she stepped out of the wardrobe, almost tripping as the silk dress tangled her legs.

The two women looked at each other and then Dalia puffed out a breath.

“I really know how to pick them, don’t I?”

It was probably not the most appropriate thing to say, but Jasmine laughed and some of the tension left her shoulders. “I never expected you to go for anyone ordinary.”

“Ordinary is boring. So, do we have a plan?”

“Yes. Get the lamp. Stop Jafar.”

“Ah. A simple plan then. How do we do that?”

“No idea.” Jasmine glanced at the wardrobe. “But I have to get ready fast. Do you have any outfits that I can move freely in? We may have to fight Jafar and I don’t want to wear something that could be a problem if that happens.”

Dalia tapped her finger against her chin as she thought. Ball gowns would be a hindrance in a fight . . . but maybe a different silk outfit would do? Jasmine always looked good in blues or purples . . . or fuchsia. 

“I have an idea, ”Dalia said as she grabbed Jasmine’s hand and led her to the bedchamber.

She went straight to one of the ornate wardrobes and threw open the doors. As she rifled through Jasmine’s clothes, Dalia’s mind wandered. If they defeated Jafar—which would be a miracle—then she would have to take Genie aside and have a long conversation with him about everything.

Particularly about the fact that she loved him.


End file.
